


Don't Fade Away

by anaraine



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-23 12:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8328727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaraine/pseuds/anaraine
Summary: Boil's going to cling to the little bit of hope he has left.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merfilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/gifts).



> The Boil/Waxer is more implied than anything, but I did write with it in mind.   
>  (Also posted [here at my dreamwidth](http://anaraine.dreamwidth.org/216849.html).)

Huddled in the cargo bay of a derelict freighter, Boil once again wonders why he's doing this. It's not a smart move. It's not even a mildly intelligent move. Ryloth isn't the best planet for a washed-up survivor of the Clone Wars to hide on - the Empire knows that they still carry a torch for their Jedi saviors.

But Boil doesn't have anywhere else to go. The General is dead, the Commander's a hollow-faced doll, his brothers are kissing blasters left and right - or blankly falling in step with a shiny new set of unmarked armor, calling each other by numbers instead of names. When he sees what is left of Cody disposing of a collection of painfully familiar cloaks by way of a blast incinerator, he knows he can't stay. That if he does, he'll end up a number on two different lists: defective and decommissioned.

He takes the first chance he sees and slips away, wearing a salvaged cloak that is probably more dangerous to be caught with than his scuffed and painted armor. But if he does get caught, if someone of the dwindling 212th reports him missing... well, at least he'd go fast instead of by inches.

That he makes it out of the barracks is good sign. That he manages to slip out to the quiet streets of Coruscant is surprising. That he actually finds a transport large enough that they won't notice his extra weight on take-off, _and_ that they are headed out within the hour, is a downright miracle. His luck holds as he jumps from ship to ship, skulking around in the shadows and trying to decide on his next move.

He hadn't really thought through what he would do after defecting, because that seemed too much like tallying his dead before making a shot. But now, knowing that he has no _good_ options, he might as well do what he wants to do, rather than what is smart.

Ryloth it is.

◊◊◊

Numa knows when her _nerra_ enters atmo on Ryloth. There's a hum in the air that sets her bouncing on her toes, lekku twitching uneasily at her back. It feels like her teeth are vibrating with the kind of nervous tension she's carrying; if there were enough room to pace, she would try to walk it off.

She hopes that Boil is still her _nerra_ , that he's still gruff and cranky and hesitant at showing affection unless he knows he's welcome. She's missed him fiercely; the holos he and Waxer —and later, he alone— had sent her were never enough. The last holo she has from him included a truly abysmal attempt at Twi'leki, but she still cherishes the fact that he put in the effort to try speaking to her in her own language.

That's the _nerra_ she wants to meet. She wants to show him how good she's gotten at Basic, surprise him with the little bits of Mando'a that she's managed to pick up. She wants him to smile at her and let her hold his hand while she shows him her new home. It's not much, but she'd share it with him if he wanted to stay.

She doesn't want him to be here with the Empire's forces, the soldiers in plain white armor that don't hesitate when marching on those who remain loyal to the Republic. Ryloth remembers the Jedi and their loyal troops. Though they are still under the careful watch and dubious protection of the Empire, Numa has heard the muttering of Syndulla and some of the other surviving Freedom Fighters.

It's only a matter of time before they decide to stand up again, this time in rebellion.

And despite everything, Numa doesn't want to see her _nerra_ struck down. Even if he is on the wrong side.

◊◊◊

He stands in the shadows, watching as Numa bites at her lip. She's hesitant in a way that he dislikes. If he put out his hand to her, he feels she would cringe back instead of biting his finger.

It hurts to watch her like this, knowing what he does of this vibrant little girl. Though, she's not nearly as little as she was when they first met - a little taller and rounder in the face, with a different headpiece to accommodate the growth of her lekku. The cloth is plain weave, but she has decorated it with the colors of the 212th. (It is an unexpected strike to his chest, seeing her wear those colors. Both heartbreaking and bittersweet.)

After a cautious and well deserved evaluation, Numa smiles. It brightens her from 'tail to toe, and she rushes forward with enough force that Boil rocks back on his heels. She takes the moment of disorientation to throw her arms around his waist in a tight hug.

" _Nerra_ ," Numa says, over and over again into the dirty armor of his brother.

" _Lia’ry_ ," Boil tries, voice lifting in his implicit question if he got it right.

Numa pulls back enough to stare at him mute astonishment - it looks like she might cry, the way her eyes get wide and wet.

She rattles off something too quick for him to catch with his meagre understanding of the language, but Boil kneels when she tugs on his cloak, letting her shift her hug from his waist to his neck. She leans in to press a quick kiss to his cheek, whispering something he can't catch.

Boil's returning smile is slow in coming, a little awkward and wobbly at the corners, but it is _beautiful_. It reminds him of dawn cresting over a battlefield, a little bit of light and hope in place made ugly.

Waxer has missed it.


End file.
